Vacancy
by Perfume
Summary: Sherlock returns home after the wedding. His flat may be vacant but his thoughts are not. (S3; Post E2)


He poured himself a glass of wine. Falling down into his chair with grace he stared across at the vacant one, the one that John would normally be in. Pressing the glass to his lips, he took a long sip, nearly downing it. When he lowered the glass she was sitting there, dressed in his robe. It was a different time, a different location, and a different mood.

'Busy?' She asked, crossing her legs with the decorum of a queen.

'No,' he responded. 'Not for a while.'

She smiled and raised a hand up beneath her chin. 'Let's have dinner.'

'None of that,' he said, finishing off the rest of his glass and placing it on the table beside him. She had moved from John's chair and slithered up onto the armrest of his own. Moving his arm, she slowly sank into his lap. He did not curl an arm around her, he did not hold her. She was just there, like she always was.

'You think about me more often lately,' she said, moving a hand through his hair, like stroking the fur of a cherished pet. 'I know why.'

'Do you?' He closed his eyes. He could almost feel her lips about his ear, and in a whisper she said: 'you're lonely'. He chuckled at it and then replied with a matter-of-fact tone. 'I'm not lonely.'

'Oh Sherlock, come on,' she said, exasperated. She curled herself up around him and turned his face towards hers. 'We're both clever enough to know that you are. It can be our secret.' She lifted a finger up to his lips and pressed it there, her eyes twinkling. 'And even if you were, you'd never admit it,' she said, resigning to the fact he would stay mum about the topic. 'But then again, I don't need to hear it. You just simply need to think it.'

'I should put a lock on your door,' he murmured.

'That girl seemed to take quite an interest in you,' she said changing the subject. 'Why did she not want to dance with you?'

'She found a dancing partner,' he replied.

'There's that word again,' she said softly. 'It's on your mind a lot.'

He looked at her. 'Don't you have somewhere to be, Miss. Adler?' She gave him a pointed look. He got up and she moved off him fluidly, following him as he made his way to the computer. Sitting down in the chair and typing away, she leaned over and peered into the contents of his email with him.

'_Dear Mr. Holmes, I am writing to ask you for your advice regarding a strange job request I received two days ago. If you were asked to be a governess to a wealthy family outside of London, at a pay of 40,000 a month, would you cut your hair?_' she read aloud. She rested her head on her shoulder. 'I would do more than cut my hair.'

Sherlock closed the email and selected another.

'_Mr. Holmes, I'm being followed on motorbike_. Sounds dangerous!' But instead of reading the rest of the email, Sherlock closed the laptop. He got up abruptly and walked off into his room. He then started taking off his tails and evening wear. When he was down to his briefs, he turned to the bed to see her lying upon it, naked.

'Now we're getting somewhere,' she said. He climbed into bed and she moved so that she was laying on-top of the sheets next to him. He turned on his side so that he faced her, staring at her as if she was actually there. She smiled and pushed a strand of his hair from his face.

'You look so sad,' she whispered.

'I'm not sad.'

'You look sad when nobody else can see you,' she said. He heard that phrase before, not those exact words. 'Molly Hooper,' she reminded him. He nodded slightly. She ran her hand down his chest and sighed. 'He really changed you, didn't he? Friendship, love, you never had that before. Now you are experiencing these feelings, you're trying to deny them.'

'I'm not denying anything,' he responded, his voice faltering.

'Sherlock,' she murmured, placing a well groomed nail to his forehead. 'I know what goes on in there.' Her other hand rested over his heart. 'And here,' she whispered. His hand went around hers, looking into her eyes. She bent down and kissed him.

Sherlock awoke and found himself with an empty glass. It was daylight and he had slept the entire night in his evening wear. Across from him was an empty chair, one that would be vacant for a while.


End file.
